


i remember you through all the years

by atlantisairlock



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Based Off The Pangdemonium Version, Best Friends, Domestic Fluff, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: Post-graduation, they find a place to stay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> roan - roger  
> matthew - mark  
> brandon - benjamin  
> tristan - tom  
> annabelle - angel  
> micah - mimi  
> maya - maureen  
> jocelyn - joanne
> 
> title from 'the afterlife' by bush.

**NEW YORK. MAY 20XX. THE FUTURE.**

 

Matthew Cohen wakes up the morning after his college graduation ceremony with a blinding hangover, urgent housing problem and a dick drawn on his face.

All things considered, it's not a very auspicious start.

 

 

"I can't believe we passed out on the college green and spent the night there."

"It's not as if we've got anywhere else to stay  _now,"_ Jocelyn points out, in the same breath as Maya's grumble. "I know, right? We should have partied it up at the 11th Street lot instead."

Roan rubs his temples vigorously, brow furrowed in what might be concentration. Or it might just be the aftereffects of downing ten shots in one go. "Right. I forgot that we're effectively homeless, starting now. Speaking of which, where the hell is our shit?"

 

 

What follows is a frantic hunt for their backpacks and suitcases in the most ridiculous of places - Tristan even checks the janitor's closets, every single one of them, which, _what?_ \- and Annabelle is this close to freaking out because her entire drum kit has just up and fucking disappeared. And okay, fine, Micah is sort of kinda maybe a little bit regretting that they played Never Have I Ever with copious amounts of alcohol in a semi-public location last night.

It's such a frenzy that it takes almost an hour before Matthew flops down on the front steps and looks around at the group, then hisses in exasperation. "Hey, where the fuck is Brandon?"

 

 

Brandon lets all his calls go to voicemail until noon when campus security is  _this close_ to throwing them out, and then he turns up out of absolutely nowhere and blinks back at his friends' stunned expressions. "Where have you all been?"

"Okay, first of all, that's our line," Roan replies. "Secondly, why do you look like you just got up from twelve hours of sleep, and not like you went through the spin cycle?"

"I took a shower at the flat. You think it was easy dragging all your crap up there? Seriously, Roan, why do you have two guitars? Why would you  _need_ two guitars? Can you play them with both hands? At once?"

Annabelle narrows her eyes and steps in front of Roan to stare Brandon down. "Okay, wait, stop. Flat? What flat? Who has a flat?"

And Brandon has this shit-eating grin on his face that they've all grown used to over the past four years, but it has a softness and happiness to it that's different. "Brandon Coffin the Fourth is a real estate mogul who spoils the shit out of his only son and heir, remember?"

"I thought Brandon Coffin the Fourth spoiled the shit out of you because he accidentally pitched a baseball into your head when you were ten," Tristan comments, to peals of laughter. Brandon rolls his eyes. "I told you that story in  _confidence._ And do you want a flat or not?"

 

 

Their apartment has two floors, four bedrooms, five bathrooms, and Brandon is suddenly the hero of the day. 

"You mean we get to live in this place rent-free for five years with the option to extend it to ten? In  _New York?"_ Matthew gapes in wonder as he wanders around the apartment, filming every single inch on his iPhone. Brandon just shrugs. "Well, I would have looked more attractive if I hadn't been beaned by the baseball." 

"See, I knew your dad was just making up for the baseball thing."

"Oh, shut up, Tristan." 

"We should christen this place!" Micah squeals from the lower floor, her voice echoing up the staircase. 

"I like that idea," Maya calls, and they can all hear the innuendo in her statement. Micah groans. "Not like that! I mean we should do something nice. Something special, something we can call ours. Matthew! You should make a film! Your first film!" 

Matthew pauses his video recording, looking thoughtful. "Hey, that does sound good. Brandon, does your dad have any information on the history of this place? Was it previously home to something else? Was it built upon the ruins of some historical building?" 

Jocelyn punches him lightly in the arm. "You're going into Hollywood Matthew mode again and I don't think that's what Micah meant. Just a simple film, Matt. About us. About  _this._  About everything we're going to become. Our new beginning." 

He looks down at his phone, still cupped in his hands, as the two girls on the first floor make their way up the stairs to join everyone else in the living room, gathering around him. There's an air of anticipation, something of hope, even, and familiarity worms its way into his chest without him even thinking about it. In his mind there are sudden flashes of...  _memory?_ \- snow, and music, and the outline of a pill bottle in his fist - 

"Earth to Matt," Annabelle says, prodding him in his side, and Matthew snaps back to the present. Those memories didn't feel like  _his_ \- they felt like they were being dragged out from far, far away, in the past, a time before. 

But the idea of a film - a film about  _them_ \- about the people here, by his side, a film to document something raw and fresh and blooming? It latches on somewhere in his mind, and suddenly he really  _really_ wants to do this.

Matthew turns to face his friends, grinning. "Okay. Let's make a film."

 

 

They don't actually get started that day, because there are rooms to assign and things to unpack and Brandon and Jocelyn are squabbling like children over the top bunk in their room and by the time everything is settled for the night at least, they're too exhausted to do anything but lie on the floor in the living room and stare up at the ceiling. 

The silence seeps into Matthew's bones, a question lingering on the tip of his tongue, and he just has to ask - 

"Do you guys ever get the feeling that we've done this all before?" 

"Hmm?" Maya turns to face him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know exactly." He admits. "This just feels... sort of familiar? Weirdly familiar? Like I've  _known_ you guys. Before this."

Roan chuckles, throaty and low, pitched with drowsiness. "You've known us for four years, buddy. That tends to happen."

The sound of New York traffic hums from outside, moonlight streaming in through the windows, lulling Matthew into sleep. He manages to smile, feeling the weight of the world slipping off his shoulders, if only for tonight. "I guess that must be it." 

"Just go to sleep," Annabelle murmurs. "'Night, Matt."

He closes his eyes. "Goodnight."


End file.
